Dream Suite

I. small song

II. first voyage

III. Lilies

IV. Revelry

V. Indian Summer

Dream Suite is a collaboration between three artists: a poet, a pianist, and a composer. I approached my dear friend Jessica to write some poetry for a four to six movement work for my other dear friend Corinne.The result is five short pieces that reflect Jessica’s beautiful poetry.The suite as a whole is meant to bring back memories of past joys but with a tinge of the surreal. An idyllic setting to lose oneself in for 15 minutes or so, so let your mind wander to whatever dream places you wish to go.

poetry by Jessica Stein

I. small song

let it smack of small thingsof hidden, hard to find things

Of lonely things in the underneath behind and unexpected

let it sing of still silences of peace in evening light

Of early morning reverence and autumn birds in flight

I will watch the sun rise thereand turn the floorboards golden brown

Amidst such glory of wild-sweet ordinary I should hardly make a sound.

II. first voyage

Wander the world then, wild one, small as you yet areswift and proud like the fox graceful strength of the sparrow

Only do not despise our humilitywho have loved truth and never liesand contented ourselves with the wonders

of a small and homely house.

III. Lilies

“In those days I slept in the attic, School just one room,” she tells me, Eyes twinkling. “I was younger than you Moving away from home, farm to city.”

Grandma Rose next to her smiling in agreement, glasses slipping down her nose, a thousand wrinkles in one smile, filling mischievous face with life,telling stories of four sons –“I named them all after my boyfriends!” with a wink, “My husband never knew.”

Two more, in the corner, arguing over a game of checkers with visiting grandchildren come to see

snow-white lilies of the fieldwho neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns. Yet did Solomon in his young splendor ever attain glory such as one of these?

IV. Revelry

Midsummer revels of long long ago When I was a lass and you were a lad

I, youngest queen, and you, the young king – Remember the lift of bare feet in the grass?

Sunlight so golden we drank it in goblets Music like laughter and rose petal dresses

Minstrels in cohort, on forest green seat, Sounding a strain as lifts merry and sweet

Nothing quite careless as midsummer’s eveWhen the dryads and nyads would come as they pleased